Getting Away with Murder
by haruka4676
Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt feels that he is destined for something awesome. When he meets Francis Bonnefoy, he finally finds out what that awesome something is. Dragging along his brother and some friends, Gilbert sets out to be a hitman! But is it all worth it?
1. Proposition

Ch.1 Proposition

**Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt feels that he is destined for something awesome. When he meets Francis Bonnefoy, he finally finds out what that awesome something is. Dragging along his brother and some friends, Gilbert sets out to be a hitman! But is it all worth it?**

**Pairings: GerIta, Spamano, eventual AusHun and SuFin**

**Warnings: Language, violence, rated M to be safe**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**

**A/N: Hello everyone! This is a prequel to my other story Sex, Drugs, and Money, however, you do not need to read that one in order to understand this one.**

**With nothing else to say, please enjoy :3**

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Gilbert sat at his boring desk, in front of his boring computer, at his boring job. Man he was bored! Why did he let his brother convince him to get a job as a bank teller? Bank tellers were incredibly boring and incredibly unawesome. "It'll be fine," he said. "You'd enjoy it," he said. Stupid West! Gilbert should've known better than to listen to his stick-up-the-ass brother. And that stick was deep in there. He knew this for a fact.

He sighed and looked up at the sound of a bell dinging. _"Ja, ja,_ how can I help you and all that," he said uninterested.

The man stuttered. "U-uh, um, I-I would like to withdraw some money."

"No shit. What else would you withdraw?" Gilbert said annoyed. Idiots. Idiots all of them. And the awesome Gilbert only had so much patience...

"Uh, right, yes. Um, I would like to withdraw," the man swallowed. Gilbert finally looked at the man; he was sweating (alot) and he looked incredibly nervous. 'He's _just taking out some money. Why is he so nervous?'_ Maybe it was because he couldn't handle being in his awesome presence? Yeah, that was it. Poor guy. "I would like to w-withdraw 5,500 euros p-please.

Gilbert almost choked on nothing. 5,500 euros? Did this guy seriously have that much? And why would he need so much? Maybe he lost a bet or owed money, lots of people owed money these days. "Uh, sure. Name?" Gilbert filled out all the necessary, boring stuff on his boring computer. Didn't work. "What?" Gilbert said to himself angrily, giving the computer a death glare. He tried again. And again. And again, until FINALLY it worked. "Finally you piece of shit!" he yelled, earning him strange stares.

"Um..." the man said nervously.

"Hold on, hold on, I'm gonna go get your money right now." He walked over to his coworker, who grudgingly gave him the key, and headed to the back. The one thing he liked about working in the stuffy bank was that he got to touch all the money. He usually smirked evilly while doing it, pretending he was a mob boss successful in stealing the money.

Now that was an awesome job; a mob boss...or a secret agent! Or - or an assassin, or a ninja! Those were awesome jobs. They would be much more worthy of his awesomeness than a fucking bank.

"What do you think you're doing?" a stuffy voice asked.

Gilbert turned around and his face immediately morphed into one of disgust. "I'm getting some money for a client Edelstein," he spat.

"That's _Mr._ Edelstein to you Beilschmidt," _Mr._ Edelstein shot back.

"_Ja, ja_, whatever Roddy."

"Gilbert, stop being such an ass. You should be grateful to me. I got you this job," he said with a sigh. "And if you want to keep it, I suggest you try and pretend that you respect me, or else my father will fire you." _'Stupid Roderich and his stupid dad' _Gilbert thought.

"Fine," he took a deep breath and continued. "_Mr._ Edelstein," he said grudgingly.

"That's better. You should really learn some manners," Roderich said, fixing his glasses.

"_Ja, ja_, can I go get this guys money now?" Roderich really knew how to get on his nerves.

Roderich nodded, then eyed the bag Gilbert was carrying. "What's the bag for? Are you going to steal the money? And I thought you were smarter than that Gilbert," he sighed.

"I'm not gonna steal the money Roderich. The guys taking out 5,500 euros," Gilbert laughed. "It must be nice to be a rich sonuvabitch. Well, I guess _you'd _know Roddy."

Roderich rolled his eyes. "Gilbert, do you know _why_ he is taking out so much? Didn't I tell you to inform me when someone wants to withdraw more than a thousand euros?"

"Well I'm informing ya now." _'In HIS face'_

Roderich sighed again. Was Gilbert really that much of an idiot? "Come with me." he said, grabbing Gilbert's arm and pulling him back to the front desk.

"Excuse me sir," he said very politely, shoving Gilbert into his rolling chair. "I need to make sure you are who you say you are before we can let you take out that much money." The man twitched. "If you would please follow me." Roderich walked to the other side of the desk and motioned for the man to follow. "Gilbert, get back to work."

Fucking Roderich, telling him what to do. Making him stay in this boring seat. Fucking -

"_Bonjour_," someone said, leaning against the desk. Great. French. When were people going to learn be didn't speak French?

"What?"

"I would like to make a deposit."

"Of what? Money?" Gilbert laughed, nobody would get his joke, but it was funny to him.

"Why of course _mon cher_," the man said happily, clapping his hands together and chuckling. Hmm... Maybe this guy was pretty cool.

"Alright," Gilbert said with a smile. He finally looked up to meet the man's eyes, a deep blue colour that stood out amongst his chin length blond hair. "How much?"

"€1000"

"Name?"

"Francis Bonnefoy."

"Huh, pretty fancy name you got there."

"I guess." Gilbert couldn't help but look at the man. There was something about him...something mysterious, something...awesome. Something that sucked Gilbert in and wouldn't let him out.

"All done. I just need the money." Francis pulled out a check; already written and signed, and handed it to Gilbert. "Ok." Wait...he was supposed to say something else wasn't he? "Uh...oh! Thank you for coming." Ha, handled that like a pro! A really boring pro, but a pro nonetheless.

"It was my pleasure _mon cher_." Francis smirked and it immediately caught Gilbert's eye. There was DEFINITALY something about that guy and Gilbert was gonna find out!

Leaving a note for Roderich, Gilbert snuck around the side of the desk and out of the bank. He followed Francis at a safe distant; not so close that he was seen but not so far that Francis was out of sight.

He was pretty good at sneaking around if he did say so himself. He would always sneak into his brother's room and steal his magazines; the ones he didn't want Gilbert to see because those were the most awesome. Following some guy was a piece of cake, he had done it occasionally for Roderich; stalking people and scaring the shit out of them so that they would hurry up and pay back their loans. But this guy - this guy was different. He was alert, always on the lookout, making it hard for Gilbert to follow too closely and maybe hear his conversations. He also had to duck behind buildings and between alleys when Francis would turn around.

It wasn't easy, but it sure was awesome. Gilbert couldn't remember the last time he felt such a rush! He could totally be an assassin or a secret agent! -oh crap!

"Who are you? Who do you work for?" Francis yelled, grabbing Gilbert's collar and pinning him against an alley wall, smacking his head against the brick. When the fuck had they gotten so close? "Wait...you're that banker," he said, loosening his grip slightly.

"That's right! Name's Gilbert," he said, smiling widely. Despite the fact that he might get his face beat in, this was pretty awesome, he could totally take this guy no sweat.

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Why were you following me?" Wow, he wasn't expecting that. Gilbert thought. He couldn't possibly tell the guy he was following him because there was something weird about him...

"I was following you because there's something weird about you." _'Way to blow it Gil'._

"You followed me all the way from the bank?" Gilbert nodded proudly. "How did you manage to follow me so far." Francis looked like he was thinking, then his eyes widened in horror. "Who do you work for?"

That was unexpected too.

"Wh-what? The great Gilbert Beilschmidt doesn't work for anybody!" he exclaimed. "I just work at the bank. My friend Roddy hooked me up." _'Dumb bastard'_.

Francis looked disbelieving for a moment, then sighed and let go of Gilbert's collar. "Hmm.." a smirk spread across his face and he looked at the silver haired man. "You're talents are being wasted at such a...boring job."

Gilbert scoffed. "You're telling me.. Wait, talents?" What was he talking about?

"Yes. If you worked for me...I could put your talents to good use."

"What kind of job is it?" If it was another boring one, then Gilbert was getting his brother and they were moving someplace fun...like Scotland! He could get as drunk as he wanted and no one would care in Scotland!

"That...I cannot tell you. I can only tell you if you agree to work for me."

"That's alittle..."

"I understand, but maybe you can think it over?" A sly smile appeared on his face as he pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Gilbert.

"A business card?" Well that was weird. And it only had a name and a phone number. What kind if business card was this?

"When you make your decision, please call me. Oh, and you can't tell anyone about this or I'll have to kill you."

Gilbert laughed. That was such an awesome line, he didn't think people actually used it outside of movies. "Got it - huh?" And Francis was gone...

What the fuck?

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**A/N: I hope you enjoyed :) I think I'm going to have fun writing this story and so I hope everyone has fun reading it.**

**5,500 euros is _about_ 7,500 dollars**

**Ja: Yes**

**Mon cher: my dear**

**Thank you for reading and reviews are loved**


	2. Decision

**Ch.2 Decision**

Gilbert sat at his boring chair, staring at the business card he had received a few days ago from the most mysterious guy he had ever met. Francis Bonnefoy. That was his name. It was clearly written on the card along with a phone number, nothing else.

What the hell was this mystery job? And if he couldn't tell anyone, how was he supposed to quit his current job? What was he supposed to tell his brother? How much was he gonna get paid? He was _not_ about to quit a job with decent pay for a job with shitty pay. No way in hell…

Francis never said he couldn't call and ask questions.

He picked up the phone and dialed the number on the card. He listened to it as it rang, then decided that his desk, next to his nosy, annoying coworkers was not the best place to make the call. He quickly hung up and excused himself to go on his break a couple hours early.

Ignoring the angry protests of the totally unawesome girl next to him, he grabbed his things and walked outside, cringing at the cold air that blew as he opened the door. Stupid fall and it almost being winter. "You should be used to this by now _bruder_." Ludwig would always say. What did he know anyway? He had enough muscle and fat to warm a family! OK, maybe not a family, but their two annoying kids!

He walked to a nearby park, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. He took a long drag before taking out his cell phone and the business card and dialing the number.

"**Who is this?" It was clearly Francis with his smooth voice and French accent.**

"Um," Gilbert cleared his throat. "This is Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"**Oh, Gilbert!" Francis shouted happily, completely different from how he first answered. "What is it **_**mon cher**_**? Have you decided to accept my offer?"**

"Um, not yet. I have a few questions first."

"**Gilbert," the other sighed. "I can't tell you about the job."**

Gilbert scoffed. "I know that! I have other questions, like, if I can't tell anyone, how do I quit my job? And how much do I get paid?"

**Francis laughed. "_Mon cher_, you do not have to quit your job! You will use it as a cover. And as for your pay, it will vary between patrons." **Gilbert wasn't understanding. A cover? Patrons? If he knew what the job was it would be all nice and dandy, but he didn't know what it was so his mind raced trying to figure everything out.** "Did that answer your questions?"**

"Uh, yeah," Gilbert lied.

"**Ah, **_**tres bien. Au revoir**_**!"**

"Fucking…I don't speak French!"

"You should learn. After all, we are in France."

Gilbert turned to see Roderich standing behind him, arms crossed over his chest, tapping his foot incessantly. "Oh, hey Roddy," Gilbert said, trying to muster up as much fake enthusiasm as he could.

"What are you doing? Why aren't you at the bank?"

"Why aren't _you_ at the bank?" Gilbert said with a smirk.

"Because I came to look for you. I have some questions Gilbert."

"_Ja ja, Was ist das?"_

Roderich was silent for a moment, then began to walk. Gilbert followed after him. "Are you planning on quitting your job at the bank?" Roderich asked as they stepped onto the sidewalk.

"What? No. Why would you think that?" _'Don't tell me he heard the conversation with Francis'_

"Because the girl who sits next to you saw you looking at a business card. And then she said you called someone but then hung up without saying anything. Then she said that you left."

"Motherfucker…" Gilbert said. He dropped his cigarette on the sidewalk and stomped it out, then took out another. Roderich raised an eyebrow at him, clearly expecting a different answer. Gilbert cleared his throat. "I was trying to get in touch with West," he said finally.

"Your brother? What was so important you needed to call him in the middle of the day and then what was that business card?"

Crap. "Uh… We're out of wurst and it's so hard to find some here in _Frankreich_!" Gilbert cackled. "I needed to make sure that he went to that store to get some! The business card was from the store, you see." Perfect lie, Roderich will never suspect it.

"Well, Ludwig does love wurst," Roderich said, rubbing his chin inquisitively. "Maybe you're not such a bad brother after all."

"Damn straight! Smoke?" Gilbert pointed the pack of cigarettes in Roderich's direction, shaking it to get his attention. Roderich just swatted it away. "A simple no would've been cool ya know." Roderich waved his hand, brushing off the comment and Gilbert almost lunged at him.

"Isn't that Ludwig?" Roderich asked. Gilbert stopped mid-lunge and followed Roderich's gaze.

"Well I'll be damned!" he exclaimed. "It is him! But who is that he's with?" Roderich and Gilbert leaned closer to try and get a better look at who Ludwig was speaking to. Well, not really speaking to, walking with would be a better thing to say.

"I'm not sure. I would've thought that you-"

"Nope. Never seen the kid in my life."

"Well, I never expected Ludwig to hang around someone so…so ditzy looking," Roderich finally said, still unsure of his wording. "But then again…" he trailed off, turning his head to look at Gilbert.

"Fuck off Edelstein! And yeah, I get what you're saying. What's with the hair though? Hasn't he ever heard of gel? If anyone knows gel, it's West so-"

"Maybe he can't help it," Roderich said, slightly offended. "Some of us can't help that we have a little hair curl."

Gilbert couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Seriously Roddy? You're still ok with that thing? You? Mr. Prim and Proper?"

"Do not insult Mariazell."

"_Ja ja_, whatever Roddy. I can't believe it has a name."

"Elizaveta likes it," Roderich said under his breath.

"Seriously? Eliza likes it? And you're _still_ dating her? Ever heard of a ring?" Roderich blushed and opened his mouth to speak but Gilbert kept going. "Of course, knowing you," Gilbert laughed. "You're probably too cheap to buy a real one."

"You are an ass," Roderich said, still blushing.

Gilbert cackled. "It's the truth Roddy! Can't hide from the truth! Hey, where did West and that guy go?"

Roderich looked about, trying to find Ludwig. "I don't know. They probably turned a corner or something."

"Shit! I wanted to see if anything would happen!"

"Knowing your brother, nothing would."

"That's true," Gilbert said with a sigh. "It's too bad, the kid was cute too! West needs to grow a pair and make a move."

"We don't even know how long they've known each other," Roderich sighed. Was he really having this conversation with Gilbert?

"So? Oh, would ya look at that? Time for my break! Later Roddy!" Roderich sighed again. Why were they even friends?

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Gilbert sat at the table in his little, two-bedroom apartment he shared with his little brother. "Hurry up West! I'm starving!" Ludwig sighed and walked into view, holding a container of food. He placed it down on the table and took a seat opposite his brother.

"Enjoy," he said unenthusiastically.

Gilbert looked over the container with disinterest. "Pasta? Where the hell did you get pasta? We don't have anything like that in the kitchen."

A light blush spread across Ludwig's face and he coughed into his hand. "A friend made it and insisted I take some home."

"Friend huh?" A smirk appeared on Gilbert's face. "What kind of friend?"

Ludwig's blush got darker. "A friend."

"Hmm." The two sat in silence as they ate. "Damn! This is delicious!" Ludwig nodded in agreement and they ate in silence once again. "Hey West."

"_Was_?"

"Let's say that you have a really boring job but it pays decent." Ludwig looked up from his plate. What was Gilbert getting at? "But then you get this offer that you just have a gut feeling about that supposedly pays awesomely."

"Supposedly? Do you not know what the job pays?"

"It's not me! It's a hypothetical thing! Anyway, it supposedly pays awesomely and you just have a gut feeling that the job itself is going to be awesome-"

"You don't know what the job is?" Ludwig asked incredulously.

"_Mein Gott Westen!_ Let me finish!" Gilbert cleared his throat. "Like I was saying, you have a gut feeling that it is going to be awesome and you don't have to quit the boring job. What do you do?"

Ludwig didn't know what to say. What was his brother talking about? Sure he spouted nonsense every so often but this…this was the craziest thing. "I guess you would trust your gut. You can always get out of it right?"

"Obviously West." Francis hadn't said anything about that, but you could always get out of a job you didn't like. Right? Ludwig sighed and silence engulfed the table once again. "So West," Gilbert began.

"_Was ist das Bruder?_" Ludwig asked exasperated.

"Who's that friend?"

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Gilbert walked down the street, cigarette in his mouth and his mind buzzing. He didn't _technically _tell Ludwig about the job, plus because he did that hypothetical thing, he was able to make up his mind. He had called Francis first thing in the morning and they set up a meeting place. Too bad the meeting wasn't for a few hours.

"Maybe I shouldn't have left early," Gilbert told himself. He stood in front of the bar that was their meeting place, contemplating whether to go in or just waste some time… Drinking wasted time...and he loved drinking.

He walked into the bar and sat down. The bar was empty. Of course it was empty, it was supposedly too early for a drink. Gilbert scoffed. It was never too early for a drink. He scanned the bar and saw some people in a booth, one in particular caught his eye: the brunette with a wild hair curl.

"Isn't he West's friend?" And then he spotted a man with blond, wavy, chin length hair. "Francis?" He got up from the bar and quietly made his way to the booth in front of the occupied one. He sat silently and listened to the conversation.

"We need the money _mon cher_. It's been too long since you've paid it back and there is only a limited amount of time that we can wait."

"Ve~ that's right. Lovi's getting mad."

"I-I'll get the money, I-I promise. I just need s-some more t-time!"

"I'm afraid we don't have that much time. You've kept us waiting enough." Francis said. Gilbert didn't really think anything of it until he heard the sound of a gun being cocked. He immediately spit out his drink and slammed his hand on the table. Loudly. Was this really happening?

Gilbert turned around to see Francis standing up and staring at him menacingly, Ludwig's friend was cowering in his seat and the man they were talking to looked on in confusion. "Gilbert?"

"H-hey Francis." Gilbert wasn't scared. Awesome people never got scared.

"What did you hear?"

Gilbert swallowed. He needed to play it cool (not that he wasn't already the coolest thing ever). "Enough," he said smugly.

"I don't think you're in the position to act smug _mon cher_," Francis said, pulling out a gun and pointing it at Gilbert's forehead. Gilbert began to sweat. Shit. What was he going to do?

"C-come on Francis. Everything's cool."

Francis smirked. "Yes, everything will be cool…if you tell me you came here to accept the job offer."

"And if I don't?"

"Then this scene will be the last thing you ever see _mon cher_."

"Well that's a relief! I was going to accept the job anyway!" Gilbert laughed nervously, eyeing the gun.

"_Merveilleux_. Welcome to the Unione."

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**(A/N): Apologies for the late update, but this is what happens when you have three stories at the same time XP But hopefully updates will be quicker from now on...hopefully.**

**Was ist das: What is it?**

**Was: What**

**Mon cher: My dear**

**Mein Gott Westen: My god West**

**Merveilleux: Wonderful**

**Unione: The Unione Corse is the French mafia, located in Corsica and Marseilles France**

**Thank you for reading and reviews are loved :3**


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